


Blood of the Sire

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, M/M, Not a healthy relationship, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampires, consuming blood, ed corrects people's french, ed secretly wants to wear lacey panties, ed's subconscious is a gay asshole, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: So... @edwardnashtons (freckledandspectacled) and @azsaszin had a conversation a while back about a vampire Nygmobblepot AU in which Oswald turns Ed with his blood to become his alpha/sire and gain some amount of control over him. I loved that Idea and got permission to write it. Here it is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freckledandspectacled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/gifts).



> This is not supposed to depict a healthy relationship.

 

 

Edward Nygma knew that Oswald Cobblepot, the penguin, was a vampire since their second or third meeting. When he was nursing the criminal back to health in his apartment. He swore to never tell another soul. Even after Oswald's betrayal, the murder of his beloved Isabella and the entire scheme to bring the Penguin and his kingdom to its knees he still never told.

He never tried to use it against Oswald either. It wouldn't have been right. Oswald didn't betray and manipulate him because of his vampiric nature, so Edward didn't try to use it against him in the revenge scheme with Barbara. She didn't need to know about Oswald not technically being human. Besides she was crafty and more of a backstabber, giving her more information than strictly necessary would be foolish.

Then it turned out that Oswald was alive.

Edward wasn't as shocked as he should have been. He was more relieved. He shouldn't be. It wasn't right, it's wouldn't be fair. Not to Isabella, not to himself. But life wasn't fair. Oswald was healthy, back to pack a punch and kill Edward Nygma for his transgressions. Ed kept up the hateful game. Because the alternative wasn’t possible, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Then they were at the docks again Ed wanted to scream at it all, he didn’t want to, he had to pull the trigger. But the gun was empty. He was too relieved that the blood wasn’t pouring out from Oswald’s stomach again to process what that meant at first. But then it came, flooding in with complex emotions he couldn’t grasp, like the current they pulled him along, slipping through his grasp. It had been a test. Like the one he’d given Oswald, where Oswald had proven he could love him. Except he’d failed. And proved that he couldn’t. He wanted to implode, to reform as a tiny speck. He wanted to! But he couldn’t, it was too much, too terrifyingly similar to-

No.

Oswald wasn’t like that monster, even after all he’d done, the only comparison could be drawn from a few spoken words.

 _“I won’t let you leave,”_ he said _won’t_ , not _can’t._ And that was enough to provide a painful reminder, of what he’d escaped, or tried to. Oswald didn’t kill him. Four months later he woke, thawing out with brain damage in Myrtle Jenkins’ apartment.

Myrtle, the only person who’d bother to try to be friends with him in Mrs. Given’s class of fourteen, in dusty rooms of Hilltop Elementary. In Salem, Virginia where the picket fences were off-white and behind the pleasant facade of a little blue house with a red door, there was a monster and a neglectful drunk.

He’d spent so long distancing himself from that place, from the memories, from the stories behind the scars, and Myrtle dragged them all back. Poor, sweet Myrtle. He’d pushed her away and shut her out when she’d asked about the bruises, he’d pushed her away again, in fear, shame, and embarrassment. How had she found him? She was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for. Her caring for him cast an awkward light on his own nursing of an infamous criminal to health. He hadn’t realized how unsettling it must’ve been for Oswald until then.

But still, after it all, she didn’t deserve to die. She hadn’t meant any harm, she just didn’t know how not to hurt him.

Most didn’t.

Oswald hadn’t, and he knew Ed best.

After a rough start, Lee was his friend, and Grundy...sort of. Grundy, while a kind, child-like oaf, didn’t have much understanding of anything, including his own identity. Which was good with Ed, as Butch hadn’t been that fond of him.

His mind was back to standard functional capabilities, and Lee had placed him in much the same position that Oswald had. He was her friend and her supporting subordinate.

It was easy to pretend that the woman who’d only ever hurt him for killing her friend and was forgiving, kind, and clever could be a safe person to trust with his admiration and affections. Even if he knew that these feelings paled in comparison to the ones he tried to squander.

The ones that wished to hold a certain inhuman criminal. Regardless of past transgressions, and how similar the things he’d told Ed when his brain was still frozen. Belittling him for something out of his control, temporarily stealing the only part that Ed had ever liked about himself. Making him feel like a helpless child that knew he was going to be punished and hurt for how his mind worked or for answering wrong.

Then Oswald was in Arkham.

And his reflection, the riddler now, had sent an assassin after Lee. It took all his self-control _not_ to visit Oswald, as the vampire had done for him, providing him a sanctuary of sane conversation in the Asylum.

Ed couldn’t go, he’d cave in, tell the Penguin everything.

So he stayed away and stayed awake, not giving the Riddler an opening to take his body again. When he got rest it was only because he’d fainted from exhaustion. The bags under his eyes were like dark bruises. He was jittery, but too tired to be properly startled by anything. It was a horrid balance. But a balance nonetheless. Until the Arkham jailbreak, at least a third of the inmates escaped, including Jerome Valeska and none other than Oswald Cobblepot himself. _Crap._ Given that the Penguin was a wanted and escaped criminal he'd have to lay low and blend in, the best place to do so would be the Narrows. As it is the most resistant in aiding the GCPD, as they were all criminals of some sort. And Oswald already knew where he worked and lived in the Narrows. This was not good, it had to be a recipe for disaster.

And how right he’d been about that...

 

He knew something was off after his first sip of water, the one he took to help with downing the various pills that helped him stay in control. It had smelled sweet and it had definitely not tasted like water. And sure enough, the world tipped over into darkness.

Then he woke up, strapped uncomfortably to a wooden chair. _Great. This was just peachy._ It wasn't handcuffs, or duct tape, or even zip ties securing his wrists onto the arms of the chair. They were small leather belts, tight enough that his fingertips tingled uncomfortably. The buckles were on the underside, away from his hands. It was certainly cutting off some circulation, most likely on purpose, whoever took him knew about the ease with which he usually escaped bonds. It was Oswald who took him, it _had to_ be. He knew firsthand that Ed could pick almost any lock easily and that he was good with knots and he'd probably guessed that Edward knew how to get out of duct tape.

Which wasn't as tricky as everyone made it out to be. All you had to do was move quickly enough using your strength, similar in method to tearing off a band-aid or waxing strips.

Not that Ed would ever wax again, that was a painful and humiliating experience, _the things he'd let himself get talked into in college._ All because he was promised friendship, he had been so naive then. And he was naive when he started at the GCPD, when he'd met Jim, when he'd truly met Oswald. Why did he keep believing that he could have friends?

_No._

_It wasn't time to think like that. Lee was his friend._  And he had a pretty good idea that as long as he kept the riddler in check she would be safe. He didn't have to think at all to guess at why Oswald took him. It was for shooting him in the stomach, for the little theatre act before the fights, for toppling his empire once, wasting his time with riddles that weren't even riddles. Oswald would say it was for betraying him. And Ed would tell him to screw off because he was the first to stab his ‘friend’ in the back. To manipulate him in that way.

Edward still had trouble grasping how the Oswald he thought he knew could have done this to him. He had known that Oswald was physically a ‘monster’ but he didn't think he was a real monster.

Like his father had been.

But that was what Oswald did, he deceived and betrayed. It was a trick all along, and Ed had been naive enough to fall into his trap. He was worse off than a fly caught in a spider's web, at least the fly was killed and eaten. Being a walking blood bag for Oswald would have been less painful. At least then the pain wouldn't be personal, he'd just have been a meal, never feeling as if he had some value to the vampire. He wouldn't have felt the loss of that value or the loss of stability that Oswald had given him. _If only he were just dead. Maybe Oswald would actually kill him this time instead of freezing him as a reminder or let him free to suffer from his brain’s ailments. If Oswald killed him this time, the pain would stop and Lee would be safe from him. A double win. But Oswald so liked to cause him pain..._  A laugh interrupted his thoughts. He knew that laugh. He'd heard it at the GCPD the day Captain Essen died, the newscast that played before the blackout while he was still Oswald's chief of staff and ‘friend’.

Jerome Valeska.

 

“Looks like your sleeping beauty’s up!~” the cackling voice irritated Ed the way that a squeaky piece of chalk irritated anyone. The owner of said voice skipped in, giving a twirl when he was right in front of Ed. Edward set his jaw and glared. He did not have time for this.

 _"Technically we do have time for this since you're, you know, tied to a chair,”_  Riddler said, picking at his nails and sitting on a table to the side of him. Ed suppressed the urge to snap back at the hallucination. It wouldn't do to start yelling at people who weren't there.

“Ed, what a pleasure it is to see you,” Oswald walked in smiling cynically. Only when Jerome couldn't see did he flash his canines.

“What do you want?” There was no point in pleasantries.

“My associate here is looking for the-- what did you call it, crème de la crazy? And after all your shenanigans with riddles and clues and traps-”

“It's crème de la folie! If you're going to use a phrase in a different language keep it consistent!”

“Jeez, what's twisting your panties?” Valeska laughed as if he's said the funniest thing in the whole world. Ed is too busy glaring the ginger down to notice Oswald's jaw clench.

_“Oh please, as if you'd loosen up enough to wear a pair. Maybe I should try, I hear silk feels very nice, I wonder if Lee would like to see, I know Ozzie here will!”_

“Shut Up!” Ed isn't sure who he was shouting at, the clown wannabe, or the other him, maybe it was both of them.

“A bit touchy too!” Valeska cacked some more. "Well then, I'll leave you with your little hissy-fit friend, I've got some big plans! Toodloo!" Ed didn't think he'd ever be happy about being in a room with Oswald again. But almost anything was better than the company of Jerome Valeska. Well, that was what he thought until he caught Oswald's gaze. _Oh, Shit._ Now he was alone with a super-human predator that had a bit of a grudge against him. A super-human predator that had a taste for blood. Ed was royally screwed.

First Oswald used a scalpel, holding Ed's mouth open with unreasonable strength. He cut into Ed's gums, the inside of his cheeks, then he dropped the bloody instrument. Ed panted, blood and saliva a disgusting coppery mix in his burning, aching mouth. The pain was making his head swim. The Riddler giggled and cackled, enjoying his suffering. Even as the blood fell past his own lips. He panted with pitiful eyes, saliva that was more parts blood drooling down. Oswald's eyes were inhumanly cold. The pupils were so small, it was more frightening than it would have been half an hour ago, now that he's lost so much blood and the last shreds of himself that believed Oswald wouldn't hurt him. Oswald stole the breath from his lips.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

With that kiss his breath was stolen, but so was his life. All he could remember was the sudden lack of air and the tang of blood in his mouth.

Strangely, some of that blood was almost _cold_. 

And then he died. 

The light pierced through, stronger and sharper than it had ever been. The pounding of his own heartbeat slowing in his ears. Then it stopped. 

But he could still see, hear, feel. 

He pushed himself into the kiss, closing his eyes against the harsh brightness. He kissed Oswald back and imploded. 

He was right, he was free. He was whole. 

The first thing he saw was Oswald, and strangely enough all thoughts of unfairness left. Truth bubbled up within him. He was infatuated with Oswald, had been for some time. At the very least since his stay in Arkham. He could be true to himself, he didn't feel the desire to lie. 

"Edward?" 

He heft his existence hinge on that very word, the name, _his_ name.

_His name, on Oswald's lips._

And he was taken back to that night on the plush old couch of the Van Dahl mansion. The way he felt was remarkably similar, that his body, his thought, his being all began and ended with Oswald. Anything he wanted, Edward would be happy to give.

_Anything for him._

"Edward, if I asked you to do something for me, would you?"

"Yes." He's breathless, unable to find the will or want to tear his gaze away from where it was trapped. Oswald's eyes are intense, he feels they can see through him, into the depths of his soul. More importantly, he feels he has to please them. Not because of some threat to harm, no, he has to please them because he desperately _wants to_. 

"Good," Oswald's lips curl into a wicked smirk, unusually sharp teeth glinting, there was blood on them. Edward's blood. The air is once again sucked from his lungs. "Also, Edward, I don't want you to lie to me ever again, understood?"

"Yes." He feels like his very existence is tied to this man, that if Oswald so chose he would just shrivel and rot away, but also that he could do anything for him, if Oswald chose, he could make Edward fly. It was thrilling. 

"If you do lie to me, well, I can always call Mr.Fries," the possibility of being trapped and displayed again, being frozen, didn't scare him at all. Maybe it was because he just knew that he would not ever be able to bring himself to lie to the man before him, ever again. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Took me forever to get this out, please comment?


End file.
